I was going back around because I'd remembered I had to go back to pick something up. I couldn’t remember what it was that I had to go back to fetch but I was fairly sure I’d know it when I saw it.
|The DiPrinzio Boys with Vermont's |
Representative, Peter Welch
This day they were serving up samples of their spaghetti with their own pesto sauce, and it was so very good!
That evening I started up the Big Green Egg and grilled the sirloin tip and the sweet corn in its husk. And while that was happening I chopped parsley and garlic and marjoram and a Hungarian hot pepper, all from my garden, and then just warmed them in melting Amish butter.
When my daughter was here I'd noticed how she so calmly chopped some garlic and parsley for me, and how tiny and uniform the chop was when done. She didn’t say a word about this, I only learned by noticing her action and its result. It was a very gentle chop, not an act of vengeance. I saw how little you need to lift the knife with only the gentle pressure of one index finger on the very tip of it, and how quickly and delicately it can be dropped down again, and nothing jumps around into your eye or on the floor. It is as though she had snuck up behind the matter and petted it to bits. And holy of holies, when I tried it it reacted the same way.
Then I cooked the tagliatelle, and sliced the steak thin, and cut some kernels from one ear of corn, and piled the pink steak upon the hot pasta, and the corn upon that, and drizzled the buttery herbs over all.
So many tastes! That pasta was so good, delicate but chewy, the herbs were just lovely, making every mouthful into a different treat.